by Alex Janaway
He reached the gate. It was barred shut. He looked up at the watchtower. It was manned – Una? The watcher turned at his approach.
‘You’re early,’ said a female voice. Una, then.
Owen looked up. ‘You want me to go?’ he called.
‘Like fuck I do,’ came the reply.
He watched her climb down, and without a backward glance she started to walk away.
‘Hey,’ he called after her.
Una stopped. ‘What?’
‘Any water up there?’
‘Uh. Oh, yeah.’
She pulled at her shoulder and raised an arm over her head. Una proffered a small waterskin. ‘Here.’
‘Much obliged,’ said Owen. Taking another bite of the meat and throwing the rest away, he reached out and collected the skin. It sloshed, perhaps half full.
‘It’s a cold night,’ said Una.
‘Always is,’ replied Owen.
He turned and took a grip on the ladder, climbing the tower to the viewing platform. He looked back. Una was already gone. Out along the trail it was quiet, still. He glanced back at the hall. Was Una talking to the guard? Would the actual relief already be on their way? So far Owen was less than impressed with their lax approach to security. Gerat had to know there would be threats out there, what the Hells was he thinking?
Owen descended the ladder and moved to the gate. He was minded to try and lift the horizontal plank from its brackets. It was a solid piece of wood and was properly a two-man job. The gate had been reinforced with extra bracing, one of the first jobs they had undertaken around the Rest when he had returned. He took the ladder next to the gate on the right-hand side and up on to the fighting platform – another addition to the original structure. Little more than a ledge over the gate, a couple of feet wide, it at least allowed defenders a chance to cover the ground ahead. A wooden crenellation provided protection and a field of fire. On the other side it was a drop of eight feet if he lowered himself over. He climbed on to the platform and went straight to the nearest gap.
‘Thought you were replacing Una.’
Owen started, and looked further down the platform, towards a man, stretched out along its length. Damn. How had he missed him? Owen had been so focussed on the tower he had not spotted this extra watcher. They were being more vigilant than he had given them credit for.
‘I was, I am.’ Owen had to play this out somehow.
‘Then what are you doing up here?’ he demanded, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, his back to the wooden screen.
‘Just thought I’d pass the time. Check if you were still awake.’ Owen’s hand drifted down to his belt, his fingers closing on the stubby handle of the awl.
‘Of course I fucking am,’ said the man testily. ‘Gerat knows I’m good for it.’
That voice …
Owen took a step closer. That voice was familiar. It had been a while but with every step, he grew certain. Dill. Older and craggier. He had not seen the man since way back, but Gerat had said he was still around.
‘Much out there?’ he asked casually.
Dill grunted and turned his head to look over the side, away from Owen, as he had hoped.
‘Can’t see a fucking thing. How Gerat expects–’
Owen pulled the awl free and closed the remaining distance stabbing forwards with the awl, straight into Dill’s exposed neck. The tip slid in with little resistance, and Owen withdrew it for another thrust. But Dill stood and pushed him away, clutching at his neck. For a few absurd moments both of them looked at each other, Owen suddenly at a loss, Dill looking confused. He pulled his hand away and Owen saw a jet of blood. With a strangled ‘urk’ Dill came for him.
Owen drove the awl at an angle upwards, as Dill crashed into him. Owen felt it strike home even as he was driven backwards. He lost his footing and fell. Dill followed him down, his weight knocking the air out of Owen’s lungs, his stinking breath washing over his face, his blood dripping into Owen’s mouth. Owen gave him a mighty push and then Dill was gone, rolling off Owen and the platform, landing on the ground before the gate with a thump. Owen drew in air and started to cough. He pushed up on to his elbows and looked down. Dill wasn’t moving. He climbed over the parapet, lowered himself over, hands holding tight to the edge, his arms taking his weight. At full stretch he released his grip and dropped. His feet hit the ground below and waited a moment to take stock. No injuries from the descent, no reaction to his landing. He started to run. Halfway along the ridgeline a bell started to ring. It was too soon. He increased his pace and started to descend. The trail was as familiar to him as the passages beneath Eagle’s Rest, yet the fear of pursuit caused him to move faster than was wise on the narrow, stony path. Get a grip, Owen. This is your land. Moments later and he was down in the valley. He ducked off the trail and into a stand of pine trees, where he dropped to the ground and looked back. From there he could see the southern end of the gate and wall. There was a glow emanating from somewhere within the Rest. Lights appeared by the gate, bobbing and flickering. Owen allowed himself to calm down a little. It would be chaotic up there. It was a good possibility they did not know he had escaped, that no one had yet checked on him. Still, he had best move get a move on, there were folk up there who would be able to track him well enough. He had to go east, try and find some of his people before Gerat’s found him. The Emperor only knew where they might be.
‘Owen?’
He turned, his hand flying to his belt. The awl was gone. Lost in the flight.
‘That you, Owen?’
Owen cocked his head and peered into the shadows of the trees. Three shapes emerged and came towards him. Two had bows, another held a blade.
‘It’s me.’ There was no need to bluff. He recognised the speaker. ‘Saul?’
The shapes drew closer, features defining themselves.
‘Aye, it’s me. Good to see you, lad.’
Owen started to smile.
‘You too, Saul.’ The second bow carrier drew closer. It was Anneli. ‘I thought you were at the Rest?’
‘I was,’ she said with a grim face. ‘There was no time, I just … ran.’
‘No shame in that,’ said Saul. ‘Without her we might never have known what we were walking into.’
Owen nodded. ‘There was no way you could have stopped it.’
‘When they took over I was in the barn. I climbed on to Taru’s bare back. There was no time to saddle him,’ she said, her tone apologetic.
He nodded and clasped her shoulder, then turned to the last of the trio, Major Killen Roche.
‘Major.’ What was he doing here? He was supposed to be far to the east. ‘I am happy to see you but a little surprised. How did you know?’
‘All thanks to your bird,’ replied Killen.
‘Arno?’ Owen’s heart began to race.
‘Woke up one morning, and there he sat looking at me, not ten yards away. Frightened the shit out of my camel. Always liked eagles.’
‘Arno found you?’ Relief washed over Owen. Arno had gone and looked for help. Damn but he had a smart bird.
‘Found us and then showed us the way. It was obvious something was wrong so we decided to take a look. We hooked up with Saul and his people en route,’ said Killen.
‘We’ve had folk here a couple of days, keeping watch. If Arno came to fetch us it meant you were in trouble, and he didn’t stop until we got here. Figured something was up when we saw that none of our people were leaving the Rest.’
Owen looked back. More lights were visible at the gate. ‘Have we got someplace safe to go?’
Saul reached out and clapped him on the back.
‘Yes, an hour’s walk away.’
Owen nodded. ‘Then let’s go.’
The group moved back into the depths of the trees. Owen fell in at the rear, but Anneli pushed past him. ‘We just got you back,’ she whispered.
Owen smiled in the dark, yet he felt little joy. They didn’t know yet, they didn’t know t
hat Murtagh and others were gone. He would have to tell them. And then work out a plan to kill the bastard who did it.
Owen was soon toiling. There was no trail to speak of, not from Eagle’s Rest at any rate; it was pure cross-country slogging. He had to stop often to drink, but at least he had no fears of draining his single skin. His companions had plenty. Killen had even shared with him something from a small leather canteen that smelt rancid, tasted sour, and had a kick like nothing he had ever felt.
‘You get used to it,’ said the Major, with an apologetic shrug.
The hour felt more like two by the time the group climbed up a wooded rise that angled around to the south, skirting a high, steep-sided abutment of rock, the first expression of a larger mountain peak. As they rounded the corner a dark hole, like a yawning mouth, came into view, a relatively steep slope led up to it, a climb of perhaps forty yards. Owen knew where they were now. He had a clear memory of flying past this place countless times, and as a child exploring within. A stream flowed from the centre of the cave mouth, trickling energetically past the route they were taking; the ground was clearly marked by recent traffic, a matter confirmed when he placed his foot firmly into a pile of shit.
‘Three going out and four coming back,’ shouted a voice down to them.
‘Since when did you know how to count?’ Saul shouted back.
A shape emerged from the darkness and walked down to meet them. It was Larsen, a big grin on his face and his hand outstretched to grip Owen’s.
‘Good to see you, Owen. These three bust you out?’
‘No need, he did it all by himself,’ said Saul.
‘And that’s why he’s our mighty leader,’ said Larsen. ‘Ain’t that right, Owen?’
‘I don’t feel so mighty at the moment,’ said Owen, scraping shit off his boot with a stick.
‘We can fix that,’ said Larsen, putting an arm around Owen’s shoulder. ‘Come inside and look at your host. Not that you’ll see much, but you can sure smell ’em.’ They climbed to the top of the slope and to the lip of the cavern mouth. Owen had to manoeuvre around a wall of boulders and large rocks, an effective barricade for any upwards assault.
‘We put this together when we first got everyone inside,’ said Larsen as Owen moved through into the cavern mouth proper. Outside, a pre-dawn light was filtering through and yet, even with that, he had trouble making sense of the space within. There were bodies all over the cavern floor, a lot of them too large to be human. He heard grunting noises amidst the snoring.
‘My men … and their mounts,’ said Killen.
‘You’ve got everyone in here?’ asked Owen.
‘All of the Major’s men, and my bunch and Larsen’s,’ said Saul. ‘Damn near a hundred of us snuggled in tight with half as many camels.’
‘We’ve got plenty of food, and water of course. This was the best place we could find to hide us all. Their hunters don’t come this way,’ Larsen added.
Owen looked at his companions, their faces so much clearer now in the subdued glow of a lantern. They made his sorrowful heart feel a little lighter.
‘What about Arno?’
‘He wasn’t too happy about moving in with us. But he’s about,’ said Anneli. ‘Probably with Taru.’
Owen looked back out of the cave mouth. He needed to speak to them all, to hold a council of war but he was also eager to be reunited with his bird.
‘Everyone will be up and about soon,’ said Larsen gently. ‘Why don’t you go call your bird? Then we’ll get a brew on and we can talk.’
Owen nodded his thanks and moved into the open. He tracked back down the slope a little way and gazed upwards using his Gift to call out.
‘Arno?’
Owen shivered a little in the shadow cast by the mountain. He was tired and worn out. But back among friends, he found his tension leaving him, the stress that had been keeping him alive, that had given him the strength to kill, had finally burned the last of his reserves. He needed to sit down. To close his eyes. To get some proper bloody sleep. But not quite yet.
‘Arno, come here, you big dumb bird!’
He closed his eyes tight and rubbed a hand through his manky, sweat-moistened hair.
A screech announced the arrival of the eagle, sweeping in low from the west. Owen felt the displaced air blow against his face as Arno passed over his head, then continued on, describing a wide circle across the wooded slopes below.
Owen grinned and felt joy sweep away his fatigue.
‘There you are, you little shit.’
‘I hear what you’re saying, Owen, but you know better than anyone, that knife-edge ridge is going to play havoc with any frontal assault,’ said Killen. ‘Without any kind of artillery, we have to rush the gates. We’ll need a ram and we’ll need shields. And they’ll see us coming.’
‘We’ll lose people, Owen,’ said Larsen, stretching his hands over a small cookfire. As well as the hunter, gathered in a small circle were Saul, Major Roche and his second, a dark-skinned Erebeshi officer whose name he had yet to commit to memory.
They were at war, they were always going to lose people. But Owen had to concede the point. Yet what Gerat had done could not go unanswered and no one had offered a viable alternative.
‘What about a night assault? Take them by surprise?’
‘They’ll be on high alert now,’ said Owen. ‘They’ll be expecting something.’
‘I can’t speak for your people but I’ve got some stealthy men who can get really close,’ said Killen, nodding to his companion. The Erebeshi grinned and inclined his head.
‘That’s not a bad idea. Some of us could get real close to the gate, take out their guards and be in before they knew the shitstorm was upon them,’ said Saul with a dark gleam in his eyes.
‘We could try it,’ agreed Owen. It would be a way of minimising casualties.
‘We get the gate open, let in the rest of our people, capture the bastards and throw them over the damn side of the Rest,’ agreed Larsen.
Owen bit his lip. A part of him wanted to do just that.
‘We can’t,’ he said, looking at the expressions of those gathered round; Larsen’s looked like thunder.
‘Owen–’
He raised a hand. ‘I get it. Believe me I do. But I’ve seen what they’ve been through, the lives they had. A road they had no choice to follow.’
‘They had a choice,’ said Larsen. ‘We all had a choice.’
‘And we all got lucky, we had people to lead us who were decent, who didn’t lose their humanity when it all fell apart.’ Owen reached out and gripped Larsen’s shoulder. ‘Larsen, you remember what Murtagh was like when I arrived? He didn’t trust me. I was an outsider, not part of the group. But he came round.’
Larsen spat into the small fire they had gathered around. ‘He wasn’t a murderer.’
Owen shook his head. ‘But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a killer. You do what you have to do. To survive. Live or die. How many of us decided to take the easy way out? Not all of Gerat’s people are like him. Not broken. I realised something, sitting in my room for days on end under guard, believing that everything was lost. I realised that Gerat and I are alike. He wanted to continue the war, to strike back. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t see the point. But he was driven, his anger burned bright and his light drew others. And then he lost his daughter. When Em died, I … lost myself too. And I became like Gerat for a while.’
‘Not true, Owen,’ said Saul. ‘You’re nothing like that bastard.’
Owen smiled. ‘I know that. And I know why. Because of you, because of all of you. And because of that magnificent eagle out there. I always had my home, my friends.’ He didn’t know what else to say. He looked at each of his companions in turn.
‘This world has become crazy, mad. It has turned against us. But the only way to keep going is to have faith in each other, to trust in each other to do the right thing. I’ll not give up on all of those people in the Rest. Some, perhaps most, can be
saved. That’s what we’ve been doing, isn’t it? Save as many as we can?’
Saul scratched his ear. ‘Damn it, Owen, you are a better man than I.’
Larsen rubbed his hands. ‘If it was up to me? Well, you know, don’t you, Owen?’
‘I do,’ said Owen. And there was no way he could blame the man for that, even if he was forced to stop him. ‘But if we sink to their level then we are no better than Gerat.’
Larsen sighed. ‘I’ll follow your lead, Owen. Just promise me, that bastard will pay.’
Owen nodded. ‘He will.’ Of that there was no question. ‘Major, can we take you up on your offer?’
‘I’m not sure I was expecting our first engagement to be a civil war,’ said Killen. ‘But I suppose very little surprises me anymore. Captain Rashad?’
The Erebeshi inclined his head. ‘I would like to see the ground.’
‘I’ll show you,’ said Saul.
‘Very good.’
‘I want us to go in tomorrow night,’ said Owen.
‘And your plan?’ asked Killen.
‘You won’t like it,’ said Owen. He wasn’t sure if he liked it himself.
CHAPTER NINETEEN – MICHAEL
‘Fuck. There goes the chase, marines.’
Father Michael continued to sit on the wagon’s bench as Fenner made the announcement. They had arrived at yet another deserted waystation. Fenner stood with his hands on his hips surveying the site, such as it was. Father Michael saw nothing more than the remains of a crude shelter, a firepit and a small midden heap.
Fenner turned and shaded his eyes, looking east. ‘Yep, they are long gone,’ he said quietly.
Next to him Coyle was on his haunches, studying the ground.
‘I’d say there were five horses here,’ said the marine.
‘And looks like an eagle was over here,’ called Wendell, limping his way back to them.
‘What does this mean?’ asked Father Michael.